Wesley Corpus

The sacrilegious hope is vain Her spotless purity to stain, Her heavenly joy t' impair; The saint, whom erring saints disown, Shall smile on a superior throne, And brighter glories wear. Yes, happy soul, so closely prest On earth, in heaven, to Jesus' breast, With him thou reign'st above; Beyond our censure, or our praise, Inthron'd where purest seraphs gaze, In all the heights of love. How far below thy dazling sphere, Shall all thy blushing foes appear, If finally forgiven! O might thy censurers and I Obtain the grace like thee, to die, And kiss thy feet in heaven. Saviour, regard my vehement prayer, Who only canst my loss repair, And solid comfort send; Send down thy likeness from above, And in that Spirit of meekest love O give me back my friend. I lov'd her for thy sake alone; For on her soul thine image shone; Ah! Wouldst thou, Lord, impress The heavenly character on mine, And fill my heart with peace divine, And joy and righteousness. O might I of thy follower learn The calm and genuine unconcern For human praise or blame, Page 59 The patient faith, the even mind, The love unconquerably kind, The meekness of the Lamb! I want to love my foes like her, Nor shrink from Satan's messenger, Nor turn my face aside; But silently enjoy the loss, The shame, the wrong; and hug the cross With Jesus crucify'd. I want (alas! Thou know'st my heart) As safe, and sudden, to depart, As meet thy face to see; I groan my happier friend t' o'ertake, And give my gasping spirit back, And die like her and thee. Hymn XXXVI. Another On the Death of Mrs. Mary Naylor, March 21, 1757.44 She flies! The soul as lightning flies, She mounts exulting to the skies, Beyond the reach of death and pain, And never shall she sin again. Possest of that for which alone We daily toil, and suffer on; In exile pine, in prison sigh, And languish till allow'd to die. In prayer and praise we lift our voice, In joy lament, in grief rejoice; By sinking rise, by losing gain, And endless life by death obtain. This dying life shall soon be past, (A moment cannot always last) And he who set our partner free, Shall quickly send for you and me. 44This hymn appears in CW's hand in shorthand in MS Spencer, 51.